


Idol

by illegible



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light, Master/Servant, Other, Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Second Person, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29464260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illegible/pseuds/illegible
Summary: Elidibus struggles with what he wants.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to have this done on Valentine's Day, but alas life happened. So consider this a sort of Valentine's Day extension haha. Shout out to Micah for being cool with me drawing from scenarios we spitballed together a while back for the second part!

Elidibus struggles with what he wants. It isn’t for lack of encouragement, nor lack of trying. He’s lost much of himself across the ages—to Zodiark, to memory, to the Ardor itself. Even unbound, existing beyond his office proves difficult. 

Yet another way he is insufficient. 

To Elidibus, his was the inadequate sacrifice. The failed Heart. Your cold lover. If you’ve convinced him he is not empty, he does yet imagine himself incomplete. 

Initially, his wishes came more as protections. He wants you beside him as much for affection as defense from loneliness. He craves assurance he himself is cared for. That he needn’t fight or fear Hydaelyn's champion any longer. 

Not that he would express these things as such. You discover them when he leans into a caress, tenses against unexpected force. The moments he asks you not to use his title, but can offer no name in its stead.

When he begged your patience (in that composed, soft-spoken way of his) it made your heart ache. 

He knows he is not the most demonstrative partner. He has forgotten his instincts and often fails to consider what he might possess or enjoy. Pleasure ceased to be within his purview eons past. Where you lead he will follow, but learning his own desires may take time. 

You’re therefore stunned when he takes you aside with a request. 

Elidibus doesn’t meet your eye at all. Keeps his hands at his sides and his voice even throughout. 

“…If it is objectionable, you need only say so,” he adds after a few moments. “I’ll not fault you.” 

“No no,” you reply hastily. 

Then, unable to hide your grin any longer, “I’m only surprised. It’s detailed.” 

This time, he glances up. Silvered eyes caught wide. 

“Is that alright?” 

With a snort of amusement, you kiss him. Hard and fast enough to make him blink. 

“I may need your help for a few details… beyond that, it would be my pleasure.”

***

The armor is predominantly blue. Cold, dark, familiar. Sculpted to your body, accented in gold with a cloak to match. Its skirt frames your sabatons in silk that ripples like a seashell. Your belt rests adorned in beads while the helm sports fangs and winding horns. Its exposed face suits you.

He could have magicked all of this onto your body directly, just as he magicked it into existence. Dressing by hand was your idea, away from one another's sight. A way to set the mood when you want his anticipation to build.

Elidibus himself wears the familiar robes of his office. Impossibly white and smooth, metal ornamentation glinting by torchlight. His mask, the same brilliant red it has ever been, conceals him nose to brow beneath his cowl.

You know him well enough by now to mark the way he stops. How his lips part faintly, beholding you.

“Kneel, if you would,” you tell him, almost casually. No less a command for that. The Ascian obeys without a word, and this is your invitation to advance. Tilting his chin so he faces you, gauntleted thumb catching his lip. A show of consideration when you both know the outcome.

“Even you had need for hope through these years,” you murmur, carefully bringing your fingers to cup his cheek. Elidibus doesn’t lean in the way you’d hoped. You stroke the spot to encourage him, and a jagged exhale escapes. “I’m glad my part helped you endure. Now attend to me.”

He hesitates. Catches your hand delicately with his own. Turns to kiss the steel adorning your knuckles and lingers there.

“As you direct,” he answers, but makes no move. 

There is a tremor in his grip.

“You have good ideas,” you assure him. A pause, and you squeeze gently. “Since you’ve given your blessings there, you might remove that glove for me. Continue with the rest in what order you see fit—only see you don’t neglect the armor as you go.”

Elidibus nods, and breathes, and his lips ghost up your forearm with muted reverence. When he sets to stripping it his progress is meticulous, and he places the pieces neatly on their stand afterward.

When he gets back onto his knees, it is to press another kiss to the top of your boot. Your ankle. Your shin. One hand hovers over your calf before settling there, holding you close. You take the opportunity to slip your own, unencumbered hand under his cowl—pushing it back. The hair you find is soft, feathered, shoulder-length. The color of unbroken snow.

For a moment, Elidibus looks at you. The amused reproach that colors his smile at his exposure unfurls something in your chest, and you smile back without apology.

His fingers slide across your buckles, begin to undo them without looking. Mask flush against your leg. You trace his scalp and hum in appreciation.

Receiving your flesh, he is no less ardent. The beak scrapes a counterpoint to that dry, clean mouth.

You praise his progress, his attention. Allow him to set his own pace. Without having discussed, you understand how important to him it is that you notice his efforts.

Unlike Zodiark, you refuse to deny him dignity.

***

The second boot joins its mate, artfully removed. Then your cuisses. All those pretty details he’d thought to include. It's only when he begins advancing to your breastplate that you stop him.

“Love,” you say quietly, and this proves enough to make him freeze. “You’ve forgotten something.”

One gauntlet remains. Neither of you imagine it’s your subject for a moment.

Elidibus doesn’t move right away.

His touch on your smallclothes is gossamer-light. Their removal no less delicate, as though he might taint something sacred by association.

“If I may,” he whispers against your sex, and the heat of him coils through your groin, your ass, your abdomen all the way up to your throat.

“Of course,” and you even manage to keep your voice steady as you say it. “For this, you can assume my permission.”

His tongue runs over you experimentally at the start. He draws it back. Licks his lips. Plunges forward and puts it to use.

***

Quick, wet repetition pulling you toward him. Your fingers twisting through his hair, dragging him closer still. He chokes, manages half a breath through his nose. With the liberated hand, you take his mask from him.

A pale ring around pupils blown wide. His features darkening red.

“Deeper,” you rasp, don’t miss the way Elidibus shudders. Moans softly.

Obeys without question.

You tell him he’s your favorite. Will always be your favorite. Gasp as he curls to meet you, strokes long and luxurious as if savoring the taste. His lips quirk when you whine, and though you don’t demand greater speed you do tighten your hold as if that might convey the point. He complies gradually, in pieces, and even without his expression you know this to be deliberate.

“Take your fill of me,” you say at last, disguising urgency with command. It would have been more impressive had your voice remained steady. “You’ve earned the right.”

Elidibus clutches at your armor for support. Steals another breath.

You pour yourself into him slowly at first, adjusting your own stance to keep upright. Admire the bob of his throat under its collar.

When you come it floods him. What little overflows trickles down his chin in rivulets.

You tell him he looks beautiful like this. In the dizzy airlessness of it all he even manages to nod.

***

Elidibus nearly tumbles backward when you free yourself. Would have, if not for your hold on his head. You stagger and help ease the pair of you to the floor, straddling his midsection while he props himself on his elbows.

For a moment the pair of you stay like that—panting hard by firelight. Another beat, and he allows himself to lay back entirely. 

Swipes a hand over his mouth and jaw to enchant away the mess.

You laugh, almost loud enough to startle yourself. “One might imagine you were being spiteful, cleaning up just after a compliment.” 

Elidibus goes still. Opens his mouth as if to protest only for you to silence him with a kiss.

He tastes of tea, and of honey, and of salt.

“D…don’t forget yourself,” he cautions when you release him. Colored even to the tips of his ears. Though his exhale wavers, it comes through a smile. “This won’t be your last opportunity. I’ve not forgotten my task… it would be a pity to spoil you.”

You scoff, eyes creasing in amusement. Kiss him again. Run across the roof of his mouth before withdrawing. His hands contract upon themselves as you move.

“Very well, oh beloved servant,” and you rock back before stumbling to your feet. Offering the exposed hand. “Please—do continue.”

Elidibus’ smile widens to teeth, and he accepts.

***

Your breastplate fogs under his lips, the imprint signifying passage barely visible behind him.

Perched for him at the edge of your bed, Elidibus shows no less care as he strips you of this. Your neglected gauntlet, your cape, and your helm all follow. He makes a point to kiss your scars one by one as they’re unveiled, as if this will let him understand the history behind each. You wrap your legs around him, strumming his lower back idly with your heel in appreciation.

His mask, you rest safely on the bedside table. Turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

“A moment if you would,” you say once he’s succeeded in mapping the various corners of your face. Forehead, temple, the corner of your jaw. It’s tempting not to stop him.

Still, he pulls back—just enough that you can see him properly. His hair is more tousled for your attentions, features flush with ardor. Strands of blue and rose thread his irises if you look closely.

“Is there more you would have of me?” he asks, easily as he might discuss the weather or the migration of cloudkin.

You hum again, brushing several locks from his face before you answer. 

“In a manner of speaking. You’ve served me well… it warrants a reward.”

This gives Elidibus pause.

“A reward,” he echoes, and though it should be a question it doesn’t sound like one. You catch him by the front of his robes and drag him toward you, biting the tip of his nose. His yelp is more of surprise than pain.

“A reward,” you affirm. Grinning.

***

Whatever he asks of you now is his, you tell him. Recognition for his good work.

Elidibus stays paralyzed in your lap, palms on your shoulders for support.

“I,” he begins, then stops.

Shuts his eyes.

Another beat. You cradle his cheek, smooth your thumb back and forth across his bottom lip.

He breathes, and presses himself into your touch silently.

“Lets make a game of it,” you suggest. “Allow me to attend your body with the devotion you’ve given mine… for each touch offered, only say ‘yes’ and you’ll receive. Or direct me to where would be suitable instead.”

Elidibus catches your thumb in another kiss. The gesture is clumsy, reflexive. You push further, grazing the tops of his teeth.

“If you want more,” you continue against his shiver, “indicate as much to me. Similar for less or elsewhere.”

He tongues at your skin as if he might memorize its whorls that way. 

At last you ask him, “Does that suit?”

And Elidibus sighs, inclining his head as he withdraws. Shifts to kiss your palm instead.

“Yes,” he answers softly, and no more.

***

You capture his chin. Tilt him back. Expose the crest of his throat and lean close enough to nose the space, close enough that surely he feels the shape of your words.

“Here?” you whisper, smiling. Not-touching.

Elidibus swallows. You can hear the part in his lips as he awaits his own reply.

“Yes,” he rasps at last. “Closer.”

Sweat dews his skin when you bring your mouth around him, satisfying yourself in the ways you pull him closer to what you are. Hot and wet, allowing naught to escape that does not pass first into your jaws. Any gasp, any sound echoing up from his chest catches instead against your palate. You clamp firm around each prize. What he manages within your grasp are small, hitched, fluttering things so sweet you can nearly taste them. 

He fumbles. You find his hand and trap it, fingers locked together like a single being.

It takes a moment for him to return your grip.

“More.”

The whisper vibrates into your incisors. He sounds strangled even before you seal the word away. Elidibus shakes, hips shifting in uncertain motion before you close your legs around him like a vice. 

When you suck, it is as if this will siphon his very soul forth to swallow. Inscribing the curve of your mouth like a bow, like the moon itself into his flesh. 

With your free hand, you seize his skull at the base. Leverage this back to expose him further. Elidibus will bear the stain as proof of your affections. 

As it stands, he rocks himself in a jutted and unsteady friction. The swell of his arousal is clear and you savor the drum of his pulse. Refuse to let him go in silence. 

“I…” he croaks, arms buckling, “I want…” 

You pause. Adjust your efforts to kiss the space lightly instead. 

His hand spasms in yours.

Language escapes. 

_“Tell me,”_ you murmur into the stuttered fragments of his voice, “and it’s yours.” 

The Ascian moans. 

You constrict further still around him. 

The sound dissolves into a desperate inhale, and you find another spot on his neck yet unmarred by your attentions. Run your tongue delicately across. 

“Tell me,” you urge, and this time when you sink into him he cries out. 

“Please!” His attempt to grind against you is halting, frantic. 

“H…hold… h…” 

This time you go still. Release his hair to encircle his back instead, your lips gentling in the interim.

“I hear you,” you murmur, listening to how his lungs sear in his chest. 

“Don’t,” he manages with some effort, “don’t let go, I— I want… I want for you to h… “ 

And then nothing. 

You shut your eyes. Consider the bed beneath you. 

In a single motion hurl the two of you sideways, positioning yourself firmly atop your lover. 

His breath catches. 

You snare his mouth. 

“Fear not,” you whisper against him. “You’re mine tonight. I don’t intend to lose you.”

***

His gloves close around your palm, your shoulder blades. You travel his spine with one hand while the other, conjoined, offers support. Leverage as you snake your own exposed nether against his breeches. 

Tight and tightening. 

Even his lips are flush as he murmurs for you not to stop. As you graze teeth along the crest of his ear, the underside of his chin. There is no focus in his gaze, a hazy quality to how he curls his arm around your back in-turn. 

“You can have more than this,” you tell him softly. Draw your tongue back across a bruise. Kiss him there again. “Ask me.” 

Elidibus blinks. 

Shudders as he pushes himself higher, chases friction across his cock against your body. Hard and stilted. 

“D…Divest me of my clothes, if you would,” he manages. “Make it last.” 

***

You take his gloves. His capelet. Robe and tunic and boots. With each segment of him revealed, you make a point of kissing the exposed flesh. Every garment is placed carefully, neatly, within your nightstand. 

He expects you to take his breeches next. 

He makes no request.

So instead, you straddle Elidibus once more—bringing one of his hands to his own throat this time. 

“As you allow, I will ruin you for decency,” you say. Your smile is very gentle. “If you’ve enjoyed my progress so far, I suggest exploring it yourself while I continue.” 

Wide eyes. 

A pause. 

Experimentally, his fingertips brush skin made sensitive. Begin to massage the space only as you incline your head. 

“I do mean to draw this out” you murmur. Descend to his clavicle, one hand beginning its journey down his side. Back again. “You have my word.”

***

You leave evidence of your passage across his chest like puddles. Time above his heart makes him writhe. At his nipple, he shouts outright. 

“Good?” you ask, grinning.

It takes a moment for Elidibus to nod. When he does, you waste no time and _bite._

***

Abdomen. The contours of his ribcage. The space above his navel. Your thumb drags repeatedly over the white thatch of hair as you suck. With more pressure he jerks more violently in answer.

You’ll spare an eye, occasionally, to how he touches himself as well. He’d seemed cautious at first. 

So enthralled, he can only move as you do.


End file.
